


Into The Night - Larry Stylinson (Night World) Fanfiction

by orphan_account



Category: Night World - L. J. Smith, One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Vampires, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-13 16:10:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/826211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis thought the summer would last forever. Then he was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Now Louis's only hope for survival is Harry, his friend and secret love. A vampire in the Night World, he can make Louis immortal. But first, they both must risk everything to go against the laws of the Night World.<br/>A Larry Stylinson version of L.J.Smith's 'Secret Vampire', the first book of the Night World series. All plot credit and ideas to her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'd just like to remind all those who read this that this is practically THE SAME book as 'Secret Vampire' by L.J.Smith. It's written in my own words, and added difference, but this is basically HERS. I've only converted it to Larry Stylinson.  
> That said, please read on. :D

It was on the first day of the summer holidays that Louis discovered he was going to die.

It happened on Monday, the first real day of the hols. (No, of course the weekend didn't count – weekends weren't called holidays, were they?) Louis woke up with his sheets all over the place, blanket in a crumpled heap on the floor, feeling euphorically free, and instantly remembered; _No school._

Brilliant rays of sunshine fell easily through the window, right through the dream catcher suspended in front of the glass, painting intricate shadows on the walls. He must've overslept. Louis untangled himself from the messy sheets, and jumped out of bed - and winced.

"Oof," he muttered to himself crossly. It was that persistent tummy-pain again, the one which absolutely refused to leave him be. It felt like some termites were nibbling their way to her spine. Louis shuddered at the thought.  
He bent double. It helped, if only slightly.

_No,_ Louis insisted. _I will not, absolutely will not be sick on the first day of the summer holidays. No, sir. Today is the day of positivity. Positivity, hear me.(Yes, he was talking to himself – no, it was not the first sign of madness, okay?)A little power of positive thinking is what's needed here._

Still bent over and glum – _positivity, you twat!_ \- he dragged himself down the hallway, past a door or two, and made it to the toilet. He got the feeling he might vomit, and gripped the lid of the porcelain loo – but, as irregularly as it had come, it drifted away. Smirking in the success of his positive thinking, Louis straightened and stretched. He regarded his tousled reflection in the mirror.

"Stick with me, laddy, and you'll be all right," he muttered to the boy staring back at him, and gave a cheeky wink. Then, peering forward like a curious child, he squinted at his reflected nose. Just as he expected, there was a pixie-dust light sprinkling of freckles.

Okay, okay, there were hardly any freckles, probably five or round about that number, to be honest, and Louis William Tomlinson was pretty much a truthful person. But still. Freckles were so childish, so immature, so… cute. Blech. Now Louis thought he actually might vomit.

Louis frowned and stuck his tongue out at his reflected face indignantly, which really did no good, because his reflection did the same. He spun around, and walked promptly out of the toilet with all the dignity he could muster, not bothering to brush his teeth or fix the bird's nest that was His Hair.

He actually managed to remain dignified for a good 13 seconds, until he got to the kitchen, where Liam was sitting and munching on some Special K – with a fork. He'd always teased Liam about his poor fear of spoons.

Right now, though, Louis just narrowed his eyes at his twin brother. You'd never guess they were twins. It was depressing enough that he was moderately short and pretty much as elfin as any lad he'd ever met (he always got in trouble because of his cheeky, evil-pixie looks), but having a fraternal twin who was tall, with chocolate-brown eyes and a brightly handsome face…  
Well, now Louis knew for certain that some divine force bore malice against him.

"Morning, Liam," muttered Louis, leaning against a wall, irritated.

Liam, who was used to his brother's moods, was more amused than anything else. His chocolatey brown gaze flickered to Louis, and then went back to the newspaper.

"Good morning to you too, darling Lou," Liam said lightly, lips curling in to a little smile, as if Louis were a kitten squeezing between his jeans.  
Louis didn't understand what he could ever find even relatively interesting in the newspaper with an exception of the comics. But that was just how Liam was – organized, straight-laced, responsible, a little boring, perhaps. Straight A's, star of the cricket and football team. Louis could've easily beaten his brother at football, but he chose not too.

Louis decided to let go of the annoyance, and left it drifting in the atmosphere, grinning. "Where's Mum, and Mark?" Mark was their stepfather, who had married their mum almost three years ago. He was pretty much like Liam; sensible and co-ordinated.

"Mark's gone to the office, but Mum's still home. Getting dressed. You ought to eat some cereal or summat, she'll get on your case otherwise. You know what she's like, breakfast is really important to her," Liam reminded him calmly.

"Yeah, yeah ..." Louis waved him off briefly, and went to go rummage in the cupboard. He found the Frosties, and plucked out a flake, tossing it in his mouth dry.

Okay, it wasn't _horrible_ being a little on the small side. He did a little dance to the door, hands above his head, the cereal box rattling in enthusiasm.

"I'm a ... sex pixie!" he sang-laughed, adding a little rhythm with his feet, which made hardly any sound.

"Sure," Liam said, sarcastic and smirking. "Why don't you put some clothes on?"

Louis paused in his impromptu dancing, halfway out the kitchen door. He gave himself a once-over – he was wearing an over-sized The Beatles shirt, boxers, and socks. He gave Liam a weird look.

"How are these not clothes?" Louis said quizzically. "I mean, we've covered all the indecency bits."

"And you're okay with someone walking in on you, dressed like that?" Liam asked seriously.

"It's my house," replied Louis, indignant, and reached over Liam's shoulder, sipping from his glass of Diet Pepsi. Why Liam was having fizzy drinks in the morning, Louis didn't know.

The doorbell rang, and, despite Liam's protests, Louis slid to the front door in his slippery socks, peering through the peephole. He instantly recognized who it was, and opened the door cheerfully.

"Harry! C'mon in!" he chirped, leaving way.

Harry Styles walked in with ease, pulling off his trademark Ray-Bans, and smiling casually at Louis. He grinned back, but still felt that same feeling with fluttered in his chest as always when he saw Harry.

Okay, Louis definitely did not fancy Harry, and he definitely did not have any plans to get married to him and have kids with him. Don't be ridiculous. Definitely not.  
Well, _maybe_ he did.

It wasn't that Louis was gay... it was just something about Harold Edward Milward Styles that made his insides squirm and head spin a little and heart speed up just the slightest bit.

Not even just his incredibly good looks, which reminded Louis of Mick Jagger. He had silkily mussed wooden curls which made the absolute hottest bedhead, mossy green eyes, and the most heart-clenching dimples. He was probably the fittest boy at their school, but it wasn't what made Louis's skin tremble, it was something else... something forbidden and mysterious and alluring.

But Liam was a different cupcake altogether.  
As soon as Liam caught sight of Harry, he stiffened, brown eyes cold and unfeeling. Louis could feel the electric wires of dislike taut between the two of them.

Then Harry smiled faintly, almost as if Liam was a doll that amused him. "Hi."

"Hello," Liam said coolly, not abandoning his cold act. Louis knew he harboured a rather extreme hatred for Harry, and he felt as if Liam would strongly like to toss him in to a blanket and run away with him. It didn't help that Louis had once drunkenly admitted to Liam that he may or may not be bi-curious and fancy Harry. Obviously, he flat-out denied it the next morning, laughing it off as a strange phrase that spilled from his lips, but he wasn't sure if Liam believed him.

He became fiercely protective of Louis whenever Harry was around. "How are Cara and Taylor?"

Harry still had that faint smile on his lips. He tilted his head thoughtfully. "Hmmm. I'm not quite sure, actually."

"You don't know? Oh, of course, silly me," Liam said sarcastically. "You always leave your girlfriends before the hols, don't you. Gives you more opportunities, yeah?"

"Yeah," Harry replied simply, the smile dancing in to a sort of smirk.

Liam glared at him with untempered anger.

Louis, on the other hand, was absolutely delighted.

_Goodbye, Cara, with your model-worthy looks. Goodbye, Taylor, with your long legs and red lipstick._ Summer was starting off brilliantly.

Most of their friends believed that Harry and Louis's relationship was platonic - Louis knew better. He was quite sure that they were going to become the world's cheesiest, most adorable couple... He just hadn't found the time to inform Harry of this. Right now, Harry still thought he liked girls who could be models.

"Is that another CD?"asked Louis, half-hopeful that it was and half-wanting to end the cruel stare-down that had been taking place between his twin and his best friend.  
Harry tore his gaze from Liam, and grinned at Louis, dimples like craters in his cheeks.

"Found some wicked Stevie Wonder," Harry proclaimed.

Louis cheered. "More real music! You've saved me from eternal boredom, Harold." Harry rolled his eyes mockingly when Louis called him Harold. "Let's go listen to it!"

Right at that moment, Louis's mum Johannah walked in. Louis took after her in looks; Liam took after her in personality. His mum was sophisticated and efficient. She was firm and kind, and Louis really adored her. He almost walked in to her when he was about to head upstairs.

"Sorry!" Louis said, startled. "Good morning, Mum."

"Hold on a minute," Louis's mother said, getting hold of the back of Louis's t-shirt, and Louis spun back like a boomerang, stumbling slightly. Harry snorted, and Louis glared at him, if only teasingly.

"Good morning, Li; good morning, Harry," she said sweetly. Liam and Harry nodded in acknowledgement, Harry with his charming smile that could've ended World War II if he had been there.

"Has everybody had breakfast?" Louis's mother asked, and when the two dressed boys said they had, she looked at Louis. "And what about you?" she asked, gazing concernedly in to his eyes.

Louis shook the Frosties box obviously, which made a scrabbling noise, and his mother winced. "Put some milk on them, Lou?"

"They're better dry," Louis insisted, but didn't deny his mother's command when she propelled him towards the fridge. He went and took out a carton of fresh milk, all the while listening to the conversation.

"What are you planning to do with your first day of freedom?" asked his mum, eyes flickering between Harry and Louis.

"Er, I'm not sure, really." Louis looked at Harry, pondering. "Listen to some music; maybe go to the ice-creamery? Or drive to the beach?"

"Whatever you want," said Harry easily, leaning against the wall. His eyes were bright and lips smiling. "We've got the whole summer."

Summer was stretched out on a canvas, with the sea painted on it… it was all he could see, and it was miles and miles to go. It was warm and windy and lazy; smelling like chlorine and sea spray, and felt like sand between his toes and shorts on his legs.

_Three months,_ he thought gleefully. _That's practically forever. Three months could easily be forever._

It was strange and almost cruelly ironic that this was what she was thinking when it happened.

"We could check out the new places in London – " he was suggesting hopefully, when the pain attacked, and he choked on his own suffering breath.

It was bad this time, really bad – a deep, snapping, fierce agony that made him bend over. The milk carton spun away from his numb fingertips, and everything went dark.


	2. Chapter 2 - Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a rather long chapter, so I'm dividing it in to parts, for now. I'll mesh them together after posting all parts.  
> Also, Ella Henderson is an angel. :) x
> 
> EDIT: Uh, I accidentally wrote the real character's name instead of Harry's in the last line - *blushes furiously* (IT WASN'T EVEN FROM THE BOOK, I WAS WRITING THAT PART MYSELF. I'M SO DAFT.) I just edited it. :)  
> Thanks! :D x

“Louis! Louis!”

He could hear a voice calling his name, faintly, like his ears were waterlogged. He felt sick.

“Louis!”

Louis’s eyes finally opened, and he gazed around, dazed.  
His mum was above him, eyes full of anxiety and worry. Liam was kneeling nearby, looking for all the world like he’d never learned how to speak. That never happened to Liam.

Harry moved into his line of vision. His brow was slightly furrowed, and although he gave off a cool, composed aura, Louis knew him well enough to recognize the worry in his mossy eyes. 

In his hand was the milk carton. _He must’ve caught it in mid-fall,_ Louis realized. _Awfully fast reflexes. Awfully fast._

“What’s going on?” Louis asked stupidly. His tongue felt foreignly awkward in his mouth, and his head was aching.

He knew what had happened. He had fainted.

“Are you all right?” his mother asked, ignoring his last question. “Why did you faint?”

Louis bit his lip. “I – I don’t know,” he said, feeling foolish. He had wanted to ignore the pain, not succumb to it. “It’s just this tummy pain, Mum, nothing too bad.” Even as the words fell from his mouth, he realized how stupid he sounded. 

“I’m probably just dehydrated, yeah?” he continued. “And the stomach pain is that…. What do you call it… Gastrothingamajig.”

“Louis,” his mother said sternly. “You can’t be dehydrated, and this is certainly not gastroentritis. This pain is too severe for that. Isn’t this the same pain you were complaining about last month?”

Louis winced at that. He had whined about it a couple of weeks back, but during the rush and hustle of the finals and the end-of-year parties, he had managed to ignore it. Or, at least, learned to live with it.

“Well, yes,” Louis admitted, “But – “

His mother stroked the hair out of his face. “Sorry, love. But I’m calling Dr. Cowell on this one. I’d like him to give you a once over, all right?”

“But, Mum,” Louis sighed. “It’s the holidays!”

She gave him a look over her mobile. “Lou, don’t try and protest. It won’t work. Please go and get dressed.”  
Louis frowned, mildly irritated, but he let Liam help him to his feet.

“You should probably have some fluids – “ Liam began, but Louis waved him off. He headed off to his room, then paused, and beckoned for Harry to come.

“Might as well listen to the CD, yeah?” suggested Louis.

Harry looked up from his brooding, hesitated briefly, then nodded. “’Course. Don’t want to waste any precious time.”

He followed Louis easily, and they both headed up the stairs.

"Hey, Harry," Liam said, voice like running water - cool and clear. "Why don't you stay down for a while, we could talk." He had a distinct style of speaking that made Louis think that he meant something along the lines of 'let me punch your face in'.

Harry sighed. "Please, Liam. Get a life," he said bluntly.

"Just back off from my brother, all right?"

Louis flushed scarlet. "Liam!" he scolded, before dragging Harry in to his room, and shutting the door behind him.

"Liam can be such a pain in the arse," he commented lightly, as he rummaged through his drawers for something moderately hospital-suitable. 

"Yeah, sometimes," Harry agreed nonchalantly, and gently elbowed past Louis. "Here, wear this." He pulled out a pair of faded green jeans, and a white shirt.

Louis narrowed his eyes. "Is it just me," he asked, as he accepted the clothing (and let himself momentarily drown in the feeling of touching Harry's hands), "Or is it that everytime you chose clothes for me, you chose my coloured jeans? Is this a conspiracy theory or something?"

Harry laughed and Louis glowed, praising himself silently on the ability to make Harry do his famous cackle-like laugh. "If it was, I wouldn't tell you, anyway," Harry said, and sauntered back to the CD Player, subtly giving Louis his privacy.  
Louis internally sighed as he stripped and pulled on his clothing. _If only Harry wanted to see me change,_ Louis thought, a little dreamy. Then he mentally slapped himself.

"But I have to admit," Louis said, checking himself out in the mirror, "These jeans do wonders to my arse."

Harry simply smiled his crooked little smile, the one which was reserved for only Louis. It was a nice smile, a little tilt of the lips, but his eyes would glow and dimples peek out shyly, and Louis adored it. It was a rare little smile, and he treasured every single one that he saw. 

"I'm sorry about having to go to the doctor's, though," Louis told him. Harry shrugged, inserting the CD in to the disk player.

"'S fine. You need to go, anyway. This pain... it shouldn't stay for so long. You're losing weight, you're not sleeping properly..."

Louis blinked at him, shocked. He hadn't told anyone that the pain kept him up at night. But Harry knew him like that; he would say little things about Louis that he could only really find in Louis's mind. It was intriguing and mysterious. 

"I just know you, is all," Harry reassured him, smirking. He fiddled with the knobs on the CD Player.

Louis shrugged, flopping on to the bed. He positioned himself in a way that he could watch Harry, eyeing the sliver of pale skin revealed by Harry's shirt as he kneeled over CD Player. "I just wish Mum would give me one day of proper holiday," Louis complained. Harry turned to face him. "I wish I had parents like yours, Harry. Mine just keep worrying and worrying and worrying."

Harry scoffed. "And mine don't care whether I'm prancing in front of them or in a ditch. Nice."

"You have your own apartment!" Louis protested.

"In the building which they own, because it's cheaper," Harry countered. "Don't knock your parents, Boo Bear. You're luckier than you think." It wasn't often that Harry called him Boo Bear (he had found out that Louis's mum called him that, so he started to as well. Louis didn't mind it from his mouth), so he appreciated it.

Finally, the CD started, and Stevie Wonder's voice was coaxed from the mega speakers, sending Louis off in to a reverie.

Louis absolutely loved music, with every fibre of his being. It was an escape, and it made him feel... less like an individual, and more like a part of something magical and mystical and wonderful. He knew it had the same effect on Harry, he could tell by the curious little expression on his face.  
Harry could sing like an angel, too, voice all deep and throaty and deep and smooth. There was an occasional time when Louis would beg and beg him to sing, just for Louis, and it was rarer that Harry would, but when he did, Louis would fall asleep with a smile on his face that day. Because Harry would sing it in the exact way Louis liked it... just the right balance between highs and lows and vibratos. It was wonderfully different.

He supposed that was what he liked about Harry, as well. His differentness. Some people classified it as aloofness, others pride, others even depression. But Louis knew better. It was simply... differentness. No other way to describe it.  
He knew he was the closest to Harry anyone ever had been, but he hadn't quite figured out what the 'differentness' was. He almost put his finger on it many times, but he couldn't quite match it. He thought that if Harry did actually tell him, it would be... something amazing. Something out of this world and sending shivers down Louis's fingertips to his toes.

Louis focused on Harry for a moment. He looked... sad.

"Hazza, is everything all right? I mean, at home, or summat?" No one but Louis called Harry 'Hazza'. Nobody else dared to, anyway.

Harry smiled, faintly. "What could be wrong at home?" Then he shook his head. "It's nothing, Lou. Just... an annoying relative coming to visit. I really don't like him."

"Oh," is all Louis said.

Then Harry smirked. "Or maybe, I'm just worried about you."

Louis was on the verge of scoffing, and saying; "Yeah, right!" but then his words twisted in his mouth, and he ended up asking, curious and shocked; "Are you really?"

Harry froze.  
Louis captured his eyes - all green and dark and full of mystery - and Harry looked a little lost, and a little scared. His lips were just slightly parted, hair curling in front of his eyes. Louis wanted to speak, but couldn't find the will to. It was cosy and welcoming in Harry's eyes.  
A moment too soon, Harry turned and his fingers brushed the volume knob. Stevie Wonder's singing became a little louder.

When Harry turned back, he looked calm and more Harry-like, rather than vulnerable. "Sure," Harry said lightly. "If you were really sick, I'd be. That's what friends are for, right?"

"Yeah," Louis agreed. Then he gave Harry a determined look.

"Oh, but you aren't sick," Harry said, teasingly. "You've just got this weird tummy bug, and the doctor'll have to give you some medicine, injecting it in to your blood stream, with a big, sharp, rusted, painful needle - "

Louis threw a pillow at him, huffing. He had a fear of needles. Harry simply laughed a bit and caught the pillow easily.

"Here comes your mum," Harry said suddenly, eyes on the door. Louis couldn't hear anything over the music, and the hallway was carpeted, but sure enough, Louis's mother came in.

"Dr. Cowell told me to bring you right now," she told them. Then, directing her speech at Harry; "Sorry, darling, I'm going to have to drag Louis away from you."

"It's fine, Mrs. Tomlinson," Harry said, smiling politely. He nodded at Louis. "Go on, then."

Louis sighed, dejected, but slipped in to his TOMs, and dragged his feet outside.  
He followed his mum, ignoring the crude mime Harry was doing of injecting a needle. 

_Tosser,_ Louis thought fondly, shaking his head, _But he's my tosser._


End file.
